


play with the haste that's on my lips

by annabeth_writes



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Meeting, First Time, Jon Snow is Not a Stark, Pirates, Rescue, a dashing rescue, and then sexy pirate shenanigans, followed by gentle tending to wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24260677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: Captain Jon Snow, the famed pirate of the seas surrounding Westeros, is hired by Lord Ned Stark to rescue his daughter from the Lions of Casterly Rock.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 232





	play with the haste that's on my lips

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, this is an old fic that I've edited and added to. It didn't have smut before but it certainly does now!
> 
> Title: Breathe Into Me - Marian Hill

The fighting seemed to go on for ages. Sansa could hear it outside of her chambers and when she looked out of her window, she could see shadowed men in the courtyard. The Lannister soldiers were easy to see, their red cloaks visible even in the darkness of night. She did not know who was fighting them. They wore no colors, only black. When she heard the sounds of clashing steel and dying men nearing her door, she realized that they might be coming for her. They did not wear the colors of her house. Was it another family seeking to take her so that they could use her? Sansa let out a soft cry of pain as she darted to her bed, the half-healed wounds on her back protesting at the quick movement.

She shoved her hand beneath her pillow, drawing out the dagger that she had hidden beneath it. When a thump sounded against her door, Sansa let out a gasp and retreated to the dark corner of her room, praying to the gods that she would not die here. She could not perish in Casterly Rock. Not when her family awaited her return at Winterfell. Not when the only kisses she had ever known were the painful ones that Joffrey forced upon her. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she heard shouting. When the latch on her door protested against the force that was thrown upon it, Sansa knew for certain that they were coming for her.

She held the dagger out, fighting the urge to fall to her knees. When the door finally gave way and a dark figure rushed in, Sansa remained quiet, looking upon him with wide eyes. HIs head turned this way and that, his eyes darting about the room quickly until they fell upon her. He was dressed all in black like the others, marking him as one of the men who had attacked Casterly Rock. Sansa held out the dagger so that he could see the moonlight from the window glinting off of the blade. She forced her voice to be strong as she spoke.

“I am Sansa Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. If you harm me, he will send the might of the North to kill you.”

Her voice didn’t shake, and for that she was grateful. The man stepped forward, suddenly illuminated by the moon shining through her window and Sansa faltered, staring at him with wide eyes. He was so young, no more than twenty and five namedays. His beard was as dark as his hair His eyes were dark grey and filled with relief.

“Your father sent me,” he said in a low voice, holding his hands up in surrender.

Sansa hesitated, unsure of whether or not to trust him. Any man could say the same only to whisk her away to a foreign land where she would never see her family again. As her eyes flitted over him, she could not help but linger on the clasp on his cloak. She almost sagged to the ground when she saw the direwolf there. It belonged to her father. She’d seen it nearly every day throughout her childhood. Sansa stepped forward, dropping the dagger to the ground.

“Thank you,” she whispered, crying nowfor an entirely different reason.

He caught her when she stumbled, holding her up. Sansa stared into his eyes as he wrapped his cloak around her trembling body.

“What’s your name?”

“Jon Snow.”

She fought back a gasp as he clasped the cloak at her throat, his hands quite steady. His name was well known throughout Westeros as the pirate who, along with his crew of outcasts, plagued the rich by plundering their ships and giving the food and supplies to the poor. Arya always spoke of meeting him one day and joining his crew but Sansa always filled her fantasies with knights and lords and had little time for thieves and criminals. But everything changed when the Lannisters took her. Knights haunted her nightmares and lords terrified her. It was this thief and criminal who came to save her from all of that. When he tried to lift her into his arms, Sansa let out a cry of pain that froze him in place.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, feeling her wounds burn like fire upon her back.

"What is it?" he asked, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I-" Sansa hesitated, looking at him warily. "I am injured."

His brow furrowed as his eyes darted over her face before widening with realization and fury. Her heart stuttered in her chest until he cursed the Lannisters with poison in his voice and she realized that he was not angry with her.

"Can you stand to be carried?" he asked.

Sansa took a deep breath before nodding, not trusting her feet to take her far with how she trembled. The pirate gave her one last look of concern before turning towards the door.

“Are you taking me home?” Sansa asked as he stepped out into the corridor.

“I am,” he said, pausing briefly to look down at her. “Hide your eyes. This is nothing that you want to see.”

Sansa did not argue, turning her head to bury her face in his shoulder. He guided her steadily through the hallways, urging her to ignore the sound of fighting around them. Sansa breathed deeply, squeezing her eyes shut. He smelled of the sea, as well as leather and rain and cold. It was a calming scent and she found herself almost asleep by the time he set her on her feet. Her legs were weak beneath her but she nodded when he asked if she could walk now. In all the excitement, she could barely feel the pain of her wounds. When Sansa turned her head, she saw a large group of men standing nearby.

“Did we lose anyone?” Jon asked.

“Nope,” one of the men said with a grin.

“Good. Let’s go.”

The pirate captain seized her hand and began hurrying her along. Sansa realized that they were in Lannisport, glancing over her shoulder to see Casterly Rock behind them.

“The Lannisters?”

“They’ll be left to the king’s justice. He’s marching on them now. We only wanted to get you out before the battle began,” Jon answered in a low voice.

When they reached a ship docked at the pier, she knew that it was the famed _ Longclaw.  _ She stepped aboard slowly, watching as the men started working on getting them away.

“You can go to my quarters below deck, if you like," Jon offered, his hand settling warily on her shoulder. "We can have your injuries seen to."

She looked up at him, seeing nothing but open kindness in his face. He was far from how she expected any pirate to be.

“I want to watch,” Sansa said, turning to look back at the castle.

Jon nodded, stepping away to call out orders to his men. She leaned against the side of the ship, her hair blowing in the wind as they sailed away from her prison. Sansa inhaled the salty air, closing her eyes out of relief. Once the castle faded from sight, Sansa allowed one of the crew to lead her down into the underbelly of the ship. As she found herself within the captain's quarters, she couldn't help but wander about, taking in everything that she could see from the maps to various weapons and books that were scattered about. It must have been nearly an hour before the door opened, admitting the captain. The low firelight from the candles and torches let her see the exhaustion in his eyes, yet he remained standing as she rose from a chair where she'd been perusing a book of Dornish history. She couldn't help but wince and he let out a sigh, realizing that he'd forgotten.

"I can call on our healer-"

"No," Sansa said, shaking her head.

She did not want to have an unfamiliar man's hands upon her. Not when so many had touched her and hurt her. Even if he was as kind as his captain, Sansa couldn't bear it. As if he could see the fear in her eyes, Jon relented with a nod.

"Will you allow me, then?"

Sansa stared at him with wide eyes, opening her mouth to answer only to realize that she wanted to say yes. Did she truly trust him so much? Pressing her lips together, Sansa allowed him a brief nod that seemed to ease the tension in his shoulders. Minutes later, she found herself standing beside his bed with a flush in her cheeks and her father's cloak draped over a nearby chair. Jon's fingers were gentle as they unlaced her gown slowly, helping her ease it from her shoulders and hips once it was loose enough. Sansa's heart thumped wildly in her chest as she lifted her shaking finger to the ribbons of her shift, knowing that she would have to undress further.

"I won't look," Jon assured her, reading her hesitation with ease.

She stilled her fingers for a moment before letting a small smile pull at her lips.

"If you won't look, Captain Snow, then how will you see to my wounds?" Sansa asked, an almost teasing lilt to her voice.

A moment passed and he cleared his throat, clearly seeing the fallacy in his words.

"I shall only look at... what is necessary... to..."

He trailed off, realizing that he was making it no better. Sansa nearly giggled as she titled her head over her shoulder and saw that his cheeks were as pink as her own. She never thought to meet a pirate who was chivalrous  _ and _ shy. The thought gave her the strength she needed to sit before him on the bed, loosening the ribbons of her shift until it could fall to her waist. Sansa gathered her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms over her breasts, breathing in and out deeply as she told herself that Jon meant her no harm. If he wanted to see her dead or otherwise harmed, he could have done anything that he wanted to do in Casterly Rock. No one else would have come to rescue her. When she heard no sign of movement, Sansa risked another glance and saw that his face was tight with anger once more.

"How could they do this to you?" Jon said, shaking his head. "You who are beautiful and kind and-"

"-stupid and worthless and pitiful," Sansa finished for him, dropping her chin to her chest to hide the tears that gathered in her eyes. "Joffrey had no heart, I think."

Jon let out a slow, shaking breath before finally moving. She flinched when she felt his gentle touch and accepted his soft apology with a single nod, knowing that her pain was no fault of his. They hadn't allowed her to see a maester, so the wounds had only been tended by her own hands or by that of her handmaiden.

"Are... are these from a whip?" Jon asked after a stretch of silence filled with nothing but their breaths.

"A sword," Sansa said, shivering at the memory of Joffrey calling out for her to bleed. "Many swords, in truth. He liked to watch them beat me."

Jon said nothing to that, continuing in his careful task. Sansa did not want to sit in silence, though. She feared that she might lose herself in the torturous memories that plagued her mind.

“Why did you do it?” Sansa asked, the words falling from her lips before she could call them back. “Why did you agree to get me out?”

Jon did not answer right away but when he did, she could hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s not every day that the pirate gets to save the lady."

Sansa could not help but smile as well, shivering when she felt the pad of his thumb follow the line of one of the healed scars that marked her skin.

“Are you cold?”

She considered his question for a moment before shaking her head, realizing that she was quite warm. In fact, the pain was all but gone, leaving behind some stinging but certainly none of the ache and fire that she was used to.

“Thank you for everything. For saving me and for helping me. You...” Sansa hesitated, tilting her head towards him. “You have given me far more kindness than I am used to receiving.”

A moment passed in silence until she felt the lightest brush of warmth over her shoulder.  _ His lips _ , she realized, her body growing all the warmer at the thought of it.

"They should have treated you like the treasure that you are," Jon breathed against her skin.

Quite suddenly, Sansa felt an ache deep within her that had nothing to do with pain. It took a few moments for her to realize what it was. Wanting. Pure, intense  _ wanting _ . Sansa had grown from girlhood to womanhood in the shadows of Casterly Rock and couldn’t recall the last time she received a gentle touch to her skin. Now that her body knew what it felt like again, she wanted more. Slowly dropping her arms from where they covered her chest, Sansa very slowly turned to face the man sitting behind her. Jon’s eyes were wide and quite determinedly fixed upon her face as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek.

“Would you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Would I?” Jon repeated, his brow furrowing with confusion.

Sansa brushed her thumb over a scar beneath his eye and found herself wanting to know how it happened. She wanted to know everything about him. But right now, there was only one question she wanted answered.

“Would you treat me like a treasure, Jon Snow?” Sansa asked, dropping her hand just enough that she could trace her thumb over his lips.

He shivered at her touch, his eyes darkening into something familiar. The same deep want that she felt simmering beneath her skin.

“Gods, yes,” Jon said, nodding his head. “I would  _ worship  _ you, Sansa Stark.”

Sansa exhaled slowly before leaning in to brush a brief yet daring kiss over his lips. Jon leaned in ever so slightly, chasing her lips even as she pulled away with a smile upon her face. There it was. The first kiss she had ever given willing. The first kiss that she had ever truly enjoyed. She wanted more.

“Kiss me,” she whispered desperately.

Jon did not wait another moment, his fingers weaving into her hair as he captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss that made her body hum with delight from her head to her toes. Sansa felt as her heart might just burst within her from happiness as he showed her the proper way to kiss, if any of this could be called proper. She had an idea of what her mother might say if she could see her now, unmarried yet all but bared to a man, and a  _ pirate _ at that. Sansa barely restrained her giggle at the thought, pulling away from Jon to look at him with awe in her eyes.

“I didn’t know that it could feel that way,” Sansa said, lifting her hand to brush her fingers over her tingling lips as a smile formed upon her face.

Jon stared back at her with eyes that burned, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked as if he was drawing on every ounce of strength he had not to pull her into his arms. A useless waste of his strength since Sansa wanted nothing more than for him to do exactly that.

“Show me,” she said, reaching out to curl her fingers in her hair. “Show me more. Show me  _ everything. _ ”

Jon looked pained as he shut his eyes, his hands drawing away from her to clench into fists.

“Sansa I-” he said haltingly, his voice hoarse and restrained. “You’re a lady. You have much better waiting for you in your father’s home than the likes of me. I can’t dishonor you this way. Not when others have treated you with such-”

Her affection grew all the more at his words. Yet Sansa would not let him speak this way, putting a finger over his lips to cut him off.

“I am not a girl,” Sansa said, watching as his eyes opened to stare at her with that same dark gaze. “And right now, I am not a Stark.”

She eased herself forward, bracing her hands upon his shoulders as she arranged herself over his lap, feeling a heady sense of desire and power mingling within her.

“I am a woman,” she said, staring into his eyes. “And I am  _ wanting. _ Would you deny me this choice, Captain? Are you not a free man?”

“I am,” he said, his hands twisting into her shift where it still pooled at her hips.

“Then can I not be a free woman here upon your ship?”

Jon’s eyes flitted about her face, taking in every inch of her before he leaned forward until their lips were merely a hair’s breadth apart.

“You can.”

Sansa did not know which of them moved, only that they were kissing once more. She delved her fingers into his hair eagerly, adoring the feel of the soft curls beneath her touch. As his hands lifted hesitantly, his fingers brushing over her skin, Sansa shivered and found herself needing more.

“Touch me,” she said against his lips, reaching down to take hold of his hand.

She knew very little of what she was doing but as she lay Jon’s hand over her breast, his deep groan told her that she had certainly done something right. A pulse of pleasure ran through her as he shifted his hand, brushing his thumb around and around her breast until he flicked it over her nipple, bringing a soft gasp to her lips as she arched into his touch. Jon’s tongue traced the seam of her parted lips, delving slowly into her mouth and stroking over her tongue. Sansa caught on easily, kissing him with equal fervor as he teased her nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling and stroking it until she thought she may grow mad at the feeling.

When he pulled away abruptly from her lips, Sansa thought she may have done something wrong until he ducked his head, wrapping his lips around her other nipple and giving it a hard suck that had her crying out. Sansa could do little but moan and writhe atop his lap as he licked and sucked and teased at her breasts, his hair knotted in her fingers as she squeezed her eyes shut and gave herself to the sensations he pulled from her again and again. When he finally drew away, she looked down to see that his eyes were hot and desperate.

“I want to taste you, sweet girl,” Jon said, shifting her off of his lap.

Sansa did not know quite what to do. Her legs were shaky enough that as he guided her to stand, she had to brace herself upon his elbows. Her shift joined her gown upon the floor and as his calloused fingers found the ribbons on her smallclothes, Jon waited for her nod of assent before tugging them lose.

“Another kiss?” Sansa said, hardly recognizing the husky sound of her own voice. “To taste me?”

Jon looked up at her with a wry smile as he tossed her smallclothes away.

“No,” he said simply, tugging her forward.

Sansa expected to settle in his lap once more but as Jon laid back fully on the bed, Sansa didn’t quite know what he wanted until he reached out with his hands over her hips, guiding her into place.

“Oh,” Sansa gasped as she realized just where he wanted her. “Jon, this-this is…”

“Perfect,” Jon hummed, pressing a kiss to the inside of her thigh. “I’d lay you down for it but I don’t want to hurt you.”

She shuddered as he nipped at the sensitive skin of her thigh before soothing the spot with a swipe of her tongue.

“This isn’t proper,” Sansa said, her hands lifting to grip the iron headboard of his bed.

“I’m a pirate,” Jon breathed, tugging her down to press a kiss over the damp curls between her thighs. “I don’t have to be proper.”

Sansa had no chance to argue further, gasping and whimpering all at once as he drew the flat of his tongue up the length of her womanhood. Her hands gripped the bars tighter as he held her hips just slightly tighter, licking and sucking at her heated flesh as if he had never tasted something so sweet. It was all too much, drawing hoarse cries and soft moans from her throat as she tilted her head back and prayed that she was not smothering him to death here. Sansa could have never imagined this. The utter, overwhelming pleasure of it, as he flicked his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot and drew a shout from her lips.

“Jon,” she cried out, her voice high and reedy. “Jon, Jon,  _ Jon _ .”

His name was a mantra on her lips and his hair felt soft beneath her touch as she dropped one hand to twist her fingers into his curls. Jon didn’t seem to mind as her hips began to move, rocking against his mouth desperately. He guided her, the most licentious sounds filling the room as he feasted upon her like a man starved. Just as he pressed the tip of his tongue to that sweet spot and stroked it without ceasing, Sansa fell over the edge into a release that shook her to her core. Her back arched as waves and waves of pleasure rolled through her, with Jon kissing and licking her through it all.

“Stop,” Sansa cried, a tear slipping down her cheek as it all became too much to bear. “Please, Jon, please I-I can’t-”

She exhaled with relief as he released his hold on her hips, pressing one last kiss there before she slowly managed to pull away and flop onto the bed at his side in a graceless heap. Though she lay on her back, Sansa couldn’t feel a thing apart from the slow throb beneath her thighs and Jon’s lips on the tips of her fingers, pressing kisses there one after another after another. His head shifted as he turned over, brushing his lips over her hips and stomach as she slowly recovered her senses.

“Do you…” Sansa breathed out, almost too embarrassed to ask him. “Do you like doing that?”

Jon hummed, flicking his tongue out to lick up a trail of sweat between her breasts.

“Tasting your cunt?” he murmured against her skin.

Sansa gave a full body shiver at that word on his lips. She had heard it, of course, but only meant in insult. Never like this. There were many things that Jon Snow was showing her already and they were far from done, in her mind.

‘Yes,” Sansa said, tilting her head back as he traced the line of her collarbone with his nose.

“Mmm,” he hummed, giving her throat a kiss. “I loved it.”

Sansa giggled as he nipped at her pulse point, lifting her hands to his shoulders only to realize that he was still fully dressed.

“Won’t you show yourself to me, my captain?” Sansa asked, tugging at his tunic. “It would only be fair, seeing as I’m fully bared in your bed.”

Jon lifted his head, giving her a positively wolf-like grin as he rose up on his knees, seizing the back of his tunic to haul it over his head. Sansa stared up at him with her lower lip caught in her teeth, her eyes tracing every dip, plane, and scar upon his skin. She expected that he might stand to unlace his breeches but Jon dropped back down, his hands pressing on the mattress on either side of her head as he swooped in to capture her lips. It was odd, tasting herself upon his tongue, but not altogether unpleasant. Sansa responded to the kiss eagerly, allowing him to gather her in his arms until they sat up and her legs straddled his thighs once more.

“Has no one else brought you to release before?” Jon asked, pulling away to look into her eyes.

Sansa shook her head, brushing her hair behind her ear.

“Only my own fingers,” she said, reaching up to trace the slope of his nose with the tip of her finger. “I’m a maid.”

She tapped the tip of his nose with a small smile as he let out a huff of laughter at her silliness.

“We can stop,” Jon offered, his eyes growing quite serious. “You don’t have to-”

Sansa leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips if only to keep him from saying anything else.

“I have made my desires quite clear,” she whispered, pulling away to look him in the eyes after a moment. “But if you do not want to-”

Jon stole her method of silencing words, kissing her fiercely as if to yank them from her very mind.

“I  _ do _ want to,” he said as he pulled away, breathing heavily and combing his fingers gently through her hair.

Sansa smiled, brushing her nose against his until he grinned back at her.

“I’m afraid that you will have to tell me what comes next,” she said shyly, lifting her hand play with the silver ring that pierced his ear.

Jon coaxed her into another kiss, shifting upon the bed until he rose to his feet without letting her go. Sansa could not help but admire his strength, both from carrying her from the castle before and holding her so effortlessly now. A gasp slipped from her lips as he sat her upon the table in the corner of the room.

“Here?” she said, pulling away to look at him with wide eyes.

“For part of it,” Jon said, lifting his hand to trace his finger over her lower lip.

Sansa parted her lips to his touch, her heart skipping a beat in her chest as he slipped two fingers into her mouth very slowly. She followed her instincts without overthinking, wrapping her lips around his fingers and stroking her tongue over them. Jon watched her with rapt interest, his lips parting as he breathed heavily all while she teased his fingers with her lips and tongue. When he withdrew them from her mouth, Sansa looked up at him from beneath her lashes, wondering if that was what he wanted. Jon let out a soft curse and gripped her hair in a loose fist, tilting her head back just enough to claim her lips once more.

As he nudged her thighs apart, Sansa opened them to him willingly only to let out a moan that was muffled by their kiss as he stroked his fingers through her folds. The same fingers that had been in her mouth. Jon explored her with his touch, avoiding that still sensitive spot that pushed her over the edge before. When he found her entrance, he simply teased her with the tip of his first finger, making her tremble as an ache grew and grew in her lower belly. Jon drew away to look into her eyes, holding her gaze as he finally slipped that finger in ever so slightly, pausing at the sound of her gasp before pulling out.

It went on like that, his fingers teasing her. Stroking her heated flesh and dipping inside of her before pulling away. When he finally slid one finger in, all the way up to the knuckle, Sansa sucked air in through her teeth at the feeling. It was odd yet not altogether unpleasant. Jon set up a gentle rhythm, letting her adjust as he stroked the finger in and out of her for quite some time. Then she felt the other join, stretching her further as she whimpered and rocked her hips, desperate for more than his slow, steady rhythm. Though it certainly felt tighter than the one finger, Sansa felt a heady sense of rightness as he dipped, twisted, and curled the fingers within her.

“Gods, you’re so fucking wet,” Jon groaned, his head falling to her shoulder.

Sansa let out a shaking sigh of his name, moaning quietly as his fingers twisted and his thumb brushed against that sensitive little pearl.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he said in a raspy voice, his lips at her ear. “You like it when I play with that pretty little clit of yours?”

She nodded her head, unable to find the words to answer him as he picked up the pace of his fingers, rubbing his thumb against her clit at an equal rhythm. That same tightness formed within her belly, hot and on the edge of discomfort yet just enough to have her gasping and moaning as she rocked her hips against his hand.

“Please,” she managed to say, gripping his shoulders tightly. “Jon…. oh,  _ oh gods…  _ please don’t-don’t stop… don’t… please…”

Jon pressed his thumb firmly against her clit as his fingers curled within her, rubbing and searching until they brushed  _ something _ that had her crying out and arching her back as her release overwhelmed her. It was nothing like the first. Her body formed a tight arc as the string of a bow being drawn back, her toes curling as she sobbed and jerked against his hand, the intensity of her peak driving her to breathlessness as she let her head fall against his shoulder. Jon pressed a kiss to the side of her head, whispering reassurances in her ear as she recovered with gasping breaths, pressed close to him with her hands digging into his back desperately.

“What are you doing to me?” Sansa breathed out against his heated skin, her body shaking in the aftermath of such a powerful feeling.

Jon reached up, lifting her head with his hands on her cheeks so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m freeing you,” he said, a fire burning deep within his gaze.

Sansa could barely manage another breath before he was kissing her once more, delving his tongue into her mouth and encouraging her to explore his own in return. She felt his hands slip away and knew somehow that he was stripping away the last of his clothing. As much as she wanted to risk a look, Sansa feared that she would lose her nerve if she saw what he meant to put inside of her. His fingers felt thick enough. How could she possibly take anything more?

“We can stop,” Jon offered quietly, as if he could sense her thoughts.

“No,” Sansa said, shaking her head. “ I want you, Jon. I want all of you.”

He pulled her from the table and they staggered to the bed without breaking away from one another. Sansa expected that he would lay her down and hover over her, as she had told by her septa that a man preferred to do. Yet Jon surprised her once more by falling to his back, guiding her until she straddled his thighs.

“You control it,” he said, nodding at her.

Sansa floundered for a moment, wondering how she was possibly meant to do such a thing. Jon took her hand in his, guiding it to wrap around his length as she let out a breathless noise of surprise at the feeling of his cock in her hand.

“Like you’d ride a horse,” Jon said, nodding at her.

Sansa lifted her hips slightly, unable to resist stroking at his length and grinning at the groan it drew from his lips. For all the pleasure that he had wrung from her body, she was ready to see him trembling and desperate beneath her. She pressed the head of his cock to her entrance, letting her eyes fall closed as she shifted and rocked her hips, easing down onto his length. Jon’s breaths passed from his lips in shallow pants as he grew rigid beneath her, groaning and flexing his hands over her hips as she took him in slowly,  _ so slowly _ . It pinched far more than his fingers, pulling a thin whimper from her lips that earned a look of warm concern from the man beneath her.

“I know, sweetling,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her hip. “It’ll get better, you’ll see. It won’t always feel this way.”

Sansa let out a slow, hitching breath as she finally took in all that he had, feeling impossibly full and yet somehow wonderfully right all at once. Her fingers stroked over his lower belly and she realized that he was shaking beneath her, the corded muscles of his throat and arms tense as he kept him still quite still.

“Does it hurt?” Sansa asked, shifting her hips ever so slightly only to draw a breathless laugh from his lips.

“No,” Jon said, lifting his eyes to meet hers again. “It’s the best feeling I’ve ever known.”

Sansa managed a small smile, lifting herself up and sliding down once more. His hands guided her in a rocking motion, his eyes flitting from her eyes to her lips to her breasts and then down to where they were joined. Sansa lifted one hand to press over his, wishing that he would hold her tighter. She’d had dozens of bruises left upon her skin but she would gladly welcome the shape of his fingers pressed into her flesh. The discomfort did not fade completely but as Jon poured out words of assurance, of encouragement, of affection, she felt the heat simmering beneath her skin once more.

“It’s-it’s so much,” Sansa gasped out, both of her hands gripping his now as she rolled her hips. “I-I cannot… I cannot ever forget this, Jon. I won’t. It’s… it’s beautiful.”

“Shhh,” Jon sat up in an instant, stroking his fingers through her hair. “You won’t have to forget, sweet girl.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” Sansa said, looking into his eyes.

She had known him for a matter of hours and yet it seemed like a lifetime. Jon quieted her fears with his lips, pulling her down as he laid back. Her breasts pressed against his chest as he nudged her legs wider apart and began thrusting up into her at a steady rhythm. Somehow his hand snuck between them, his fingers rubbing at her clit once more as she moaned and sobbed out her pleasure against his chest. It felt all too good. Sansa wondered how anyone could think to stray from their bed if this was what awaited them upon the furs. She quivered and cried out hoarsely as yet another peak overwhelmed her, just as Jon pulled out of her and took hold of his cock, stroking it quickly with gasping breaths until he spilled upon his stomach as Sansa held herself up on aching arms.

“Why-why did you-”

Jon sat up, gently taking hold of her chin to kiss her deeply and thoroughly, lingering upon her lips.

“I won’t get a bastard on you, Sansa.”

She let out a soft sigh, realizing that he was only trying to keep her safe. Once he fetched his tunic from the ground to clean them both up, she found herself splayed out over his chest with her cheek pressed over his heart, listening to steady thud as her eyes slipped closed.

“How long does it take to get to the North from here?” she asked, refusing to succumb to sleep until she had her answers.

“Two months in good weather,” Jon said quietly, a note of regret in his voice as he let his fingers play with her hair. “A little more since we’ll have to give the Iron Islands a wide berth. They don’t much like other pirates encroaching upon their waters.”

Sansa considered that carefully before hitching her leg higher upon his.

“I see no need to rush our journey,” she said, turning her face to press a kiss over his heart. “I am far from done with you, my captain.”

Jon brushed a kiss over the top of her head.

“As you say, my lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> If you ever want to give me a fic prompt or if you just want to talk to me (cause I love doing that) you can hop on over to my tumblr page, snowsinthenorth. I would love to talk to y'all!


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